


We Are Not Things

by neversaydie



Series: Like Real People [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes tries to Person, Cat Dads, Genderqueer Bucky, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mad Max: Fury Road - Freeform, Memory Loss, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Non-Binary Bucky, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halloween looms large on Bucky's calendar, the 31st of October circled with bright orange and adorned liberally with the sparkly black cat stickers Steve found in some craft store and 'just had to have'. </p>
<p>Stark is throwing a party, as he often does, and has even been so kind as to hold it in the Tower this year so Bucky and Bruce can attend. Neither of them would risk being in such a crowded, unpredictable environment outside of somewhere with automatic safety protocols, so Bucky's actually starting to tentatively look forward to his first 'party' that isn't drinks at a dimly-lit dive bar. </p>
<p>But the costume. That's the kicker. </p>
<p>[in which Bucky continues to try to person, Natasha knows watching Fury Road is always a good idea, and Halloween happens]</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Not Things

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!

Bucky has absolutely no idea what to dress as for this party.

Halloween looms large on Bucky's calendar, the 31st of October circled with bright orange and adorned liberally with the sparkly black cat stickers Steve found in some craft store and 'just had to have'. Stark is throwing a party, as he often does, and has even been so kind as to hold it in the Tower this year so Bucky and Bruce can attend. Neither of them would risk being in such a crowded, unpredictable environment outside of somewhere with automatic safety protocols, so Bucky's actually starting to tentatively look forward to his first 'party' that isn't drinks at a dimly-lit dive bar.

But the costume. That's the kicker.

Halloween, as far as he understands it, is one occasion where it's socially acceptable for him to wear whatever the hell he wants. Many people don't wear much of anything at all, if google image search is returning the right results (sometimes it doesn't, apparently there are certain words that have a completely different meaning on the internet and Bucky's stumbled across enough porn to figure that out without anyone telling him). He could wear a feminine or masculine costume and nobody would bat an eye, it wouldn't even made Steve get that pink flush of embarrassment that he pretends he doesn't get when somebody looks at Bucky a little too long while they're out together. Bucky understands that he's not the only one who needs to undo some programming, but Halloween is an occasion where Steve wouldn't have to feel embarrassed even a little bit, and Bucky has so many options.   

And that's the problem: Bucky has no idea how to choose. He's not used to having this level of freedom, he still finds it difficult to pick between three breakfast options or having his coffee with or without milk (sugar is non-negotiable). Having what feels like an infinite number of pop-culture characters he sort of recognises, classic horror tropes, or political figures (he'll probably stay away from that one, Stark is going as Donald Trump and Bucky knows he can't top that) to choose from is slightly overwhelming.

"We could do a joint costume." Steve suggests (very deliberately doesn't say 'couple's costume' because that's a whole other minefield), after the fifth time Bucky growls and accidentally snaps his pencil in half while he's trying to sketch out something that looks kind of like a cross between a vampire and Catwoman. Steve's beginning to worry about the fate of their kitchen table. "Like Batman and Robin or something."

"Dibs on Batman." Bucky calls it immediately, and the ferocity of Steve's eye-roll could probably power one of Stark's suits for a few days. "But no. I wanna pick my own thing."

"Alright." Steve nods with a certain degree of relief, because he really doesn't want to be Robin. "Just remember there are no wrong choices, okay? Take your time."

"Yeah, I know." It should be an obvious statement, but there are a lot of things that 'should' be obvious that Bucky doesn't know yet. Sometimes his friends don't realise he doesn't know them until it becomes glaringly obvious, because Bucky's good at keeping his ignorance under the radar in case –

_\--should've fucking said something you're not a fucking human you can't figure it out on your own assume the position you deserve this you almost jeopardised the entire operation don't make a fucking sound you—_

"Buck?" The concerned look never fully leaves Steve's face, even though he must be used to Bucky checking out on him by now. He's standing by the open refrigerator, and part of Bucky wants to make some quip about the decadent West at the same time as another wants to yell at him because _power costs money dumbass turn the fuckin' light out before you fall asleep_.

The two parts are very loud, and neither of them are Bucky. He has to blink sleepily a few times before he can find himself in his head and answer his friend.

"Yeah? What?" He also never stops pretending that there's an innocent reason for him not replying to Steve, even if he knows it's obvious he's dissociating or flashing back or whatever the fuck he's supposed to call it this week. It's for the same reason he checks Steve for scrapes and bruises after every mission, even though he logically knows the serum will clear any injury up in no time. Habits from a forgotten life, he supposes.

"Bacon. You want some?" He's clearly repeated himself a couple of times already, but Steve has a lot of patience these days. Only with Bucky, but Steve getting irritated at Sam's inability to decide on a song to play in the car is totally not Bucky's problem. "And eggs. Or eggs. Whichever."

For some reason it's the small choice, the tiny decision he has to make on top of everything else, that tips the whole cart over. Somewhere deep in his mind, Bucky blanks out.

"No." He does want bacon, but he can't choose between eggs or no eggs, so it's easier to just not make the choice at all. "I'm gonna go read."

"Don't forget we're going to the doctor at five." Steve clearly doesn't care if Bucky wants bacon and/or eggs or not, and usually that would make it easier. Bucky's working on being selfish, he's starting to get better at claiming his space and stuff and owning it, but today is just too much. He nods and leaves, retreating to his bedroom where he doesn't have to make any decisions at all.

Jager is napping peacefully on the bed, curled into a ball on Bucky's pillow, and makes an irritable sound at being woken when Bucky flops down on the mattress. Bucky pets him for a moment, letting the warmth and softness of the cat's fur ground him in the present, before unceremoniously pushing him off the pillow so he can put his head on it. There are no decisions to be made in sleep, and maybe a reset of his system will help the blankness that's threatening to overtake him entirely.

The nap is thankfully dreamless, and Bucky wakes up feeling a little more himself (less Asset, anyway). When he goes back to trying to figure out his Halloween costume, however, the inability to handle choice persists. There are just too many options and he doesn't feel passionately enough about any of them.

He doesn't break the kitchen table, but Steve does have to buy two new packs of pencils as the big day approaches. A frustrated Bucky has never been a gentle Bucky, even before the arm.

*

"Did you make a list?"

It's three days before Halloween and Bucky is getting seriously tied up in knots over this costume thing. He's done all kinds of research into the origins of the holiday, the most popular costumes from year to year (Captain America frequently makes the list, Steve had just told him not to say a fucking word when he saw the sneaky little grin on Bucky's face), and Halloween traditions. Mission research is something he can do, a memory left burned into him from when the Soviets used him as an independent agent (before the Americans got all _he's too powerful to be kept on a long leash you keep an attack dog in a muzzle you don't give it free run of the park_ ), so he knows how to behave like a real person at this party.

It's just the fucking costume. He can't decide on anything.

Natasha is usually helpful when it comes to this stuff. She was the one who, the first time they went to a coffee shop as a group, ordered Bucky's drink for him when he froze up in the face of an entire board of choices. Their shared history is still mostly murky for Bucky (and partially for Natasha too, if he can believe what she says about it), but they have enough in common that they can lean on each other if the need arises.

Sometimes, though, she's spectacularly unhelpful. Bucky's semi-sure she does it on purpose.

"Of course I made a list." He grumbles, pulling the crumpled piece of paper out of his Halloween binder (he wanted to be organised in case he forgot anything and it had a cute cat on the cover, of course he has a binder) and slapping it on the counter in front of her. "See?"

Natasha scans down the list, scrawled in cramped half-English half-Cyrillic, and isn't surprised by anything she reads. They're mostly classic costumes ( _Vampire. Pros: glitter (??). Cons: blood._ ) or pop culture figures he's familiar with ( _Sleeping Beauty. Pros: make fun of Steve. Cons: wig._ ), some of which aren't really within the average person's definition of good taste ( _JFK. Pros: recognisable. Cons: killed him._ ). But nothing jumps out at her as something that Bucky actually gives half a crap about.

"Why don't you go for something more recent?" She suggests, pushing the list back over to an obviously frustrated Bucky. "What movies did you enjoy this year?"

"I dunno. None of them. I hate everything." Bucky grunts, shoving the paper back into his folder and rubbing a hand over his face tetchily. If he smears his eyeliner any more he's going to end up looking mission-ready very soon. "I'm gonna draw cat whiskers on my face and call it a day."

"That's weak, James. You can do better." Natasha raises her eyebrows and cuts him off when he's opens his mouth again. "And James Bond is just a suit, that's a shitty costume too."

"You suck." He sighs heavily and flicks a paperclip at her, because he's sick of her reading his mind and making him feel like he's too predictable. It makes him feel unsafe, because if he's predictable he could be _taken back you thought you could survive without us we'll teach you not to—_

"James. Bucky." It's different when Natasha brings him out of his little episodes, because she's less gentle than Steve or Sam. She knows where his weak points are, and being startled by a quiet voice isn't one of them. "I have an idea. Did you see Mad Max this year?"

"Mad Max?" It takes him a few seconds to come back into the room, for the words to make sense in either Russian or English. "Uh, no. Sam said the theme probably wasn't good for me."

"Sam isn't always right." Natasha steals the binder from right in front of him, and Bucky makes an indignant sound in the back of his throat as she pulls him to his feet. "Come on, movie night. We can have salty or sweet popcorn. Your choice."

Although it takes him a minute, Bucky can make decisions more easily when he's given simple options like that. Natasha waits patiently, because for some reason Bucky's friends are awesome even though he doesn't deserve them after all the shitty things he's done, and he eventually nods and starts moving under his own steam.

"Salty popcorn." He decides, feeling a little less anxious when he sees the slight smile at the corner of Natasha's lips. "And we steal Steve's Halloween candy."

"Best idea you've had so far." Natasha agrees, already flicking through Steve's on-demand package to find the movie she's so set on showing him. "You can tap out if this is too much, got it?"

"Got it." Bucky agrees, grabbing Jager's favourite jingly cat toy from the coffee table before he plops down on the couch. Natasha suggested snacks, so it's her responsibility to procure them. Unless she elbows him really hard, which he's hoping isn't about to happen.

The cat toy was an improvised idea that actually worked and became part of his daily routine. Sometimes he gets non-verbal when he disappears into bad memories, but he'll usually drop the toy if his hand goes limp and alert whoever he's with to the fact he's checked out. He doesn't ever tell Steve that he got his great idea from a porn video, because according to his therapists he's not supposed to try and seek out his triggers like that. And yeah, the BDSM video had left him puking his guts out behind the locked bathroom door after it sparked an onslaught of memories that felt like they'd never stop ( _tie him down we're just getting started_ ), but Bucky thinks it's important for him to figure that shit out for himself.

"There's not a lot of dialogue, so don't drift off." Natasha warns, starting the movie before she gets up to grab them appropriate movie snacks.

The beginning of the movie does freak Bucky out a little, because the disembodied voices over a black screen are kind of a little too close to his intrusive thoughts for comfort. But once the colour comes into the picture, bright and vibrant and so _not_ how his inner landscape is these days, he feels like he's coming alive all over again. Natasha flops onto the couch beside him, but Bucky barely notices as he watches the movie, transfixed.

She was right, it does give him an idea.

*

Predictably, Steve has no idea who the fuck Bucky arrives at Stark's party dressed as.

"Okay, so… that's even more eyeliner than usual." He looks Bucky over with slightly raised eyebrows, but the overwhelming expression on his face seems to be relief. Probably that Bucky's endless quest for a costume is finally over and he doesn't have to get woken up at 3am with questions about pumpkin carving anymore.

"You never watched the movie?" Bucky pouts, a little disappointed. He's even stuck a load of stuff all over his prosthetic, especially for the occasion, and it's going to suck if nobody knows who he is.

"Wait… from Mad Max?" A little frown creases Steve's brow and yep, that's still as adorable as Bucky foggily remembers it being seventy years ago. "I thought that wasn't a good idea for you."

"It was an _awesome_ idea for me." Bucky grins, actually full-on grins, and Steve looks totally shocked. He should probably put some more effort into smiling more often if that's the reaction he gets from being happy. "The bad guys own these women but then they save themselves. They're not things, they're people."

"Okay… Yeah, you're right. That's a pretty awesome thing for you to watch." His face is relaxed now, and it makes Bucky relax in kind. "So you're…"

"Furiosa." Bucky grabs Steve's elbow and pulls him a little closer so he can see Natasha when he points her out, wearing a garden fork over her face. "Nat's Max. And I dunno where—"

"WITNESS ME!" The yell comes from somewhere up in the ceiling, and before anyone can respond a shirtless, white-painted Clint is crashing down into the middle of the party. He only breaks a single table, so it's actually one of his better drunken landings.

"Yeah, Clint's in on it too." Bucky is still smiling hard, and Steve's eyes soften when he sees just how much happiness is radiating off him right now. "He's been doing that for two days."

"There's not gonna be much Tower left if he keeps up." Steve offers Bucky his beer, and his friend takes it gratefully. He's got tiny orange pumpkins painted on his nails, because holiday-themed designs are awesome even if it's not in the spirit of his costume. "I'm glad you found something you wanted to be."

"Sorry it took me so long to choose." He doesn't really sound that sorry, and that makes Steve happier than anything else. Bucky looks him up and down critically and frowns at him. "What are you supposed to be?"

"Uh… Jager." Steve offers sheepishly, because a black t-shirt and eyeliner whiskers are definitely not a costume. "I couldn't think of anything else."

"Are you kidding me? You are literally the definition of a fucking War Boy. 'Witness me Bucky, I'm gonna fight the biggest guy in the street.' 'Witness me Bucky, I'm gonna jump on a fuckin' grenade.'" The imitation is fucking ridiculous, but Steve can't exactly be mad as Bucky laces their fingers together and drags him in Clint and Natasha's direction. "Take your shirt off, asshole. Nat! You got any more white paint?!"

Choices will get easier with time, that's what Bucky is hoping, but he doesn't think about it tonight. Tonight he concentrates on how he feels kind of powerful dressing like this, because every time he catches sight of himself in a reflective surface he's reminded: he's not a thing. He's a person, and he's in charge of his own destiny now.

You can't own a person, and nobody owns him anymore.

*

_"Your body is not your own."_

_The Asset has been forced to listen to the recording for what feels like forever but is in reality closer to three days. It stole a piece of candy from an agent's pocket, so it deserves to be punished._

_"You do not have desires. You do not have wants. You are not a person. You belong to HYDRA. You are grateful for their protection."_

_It is grateful to be corrected in such a gentle manner. Next time, it knows it wouldn't be so lucky._

_Things don't get second chances._


End file.
